


Rainy Night

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Nashville (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Reminiscing, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: "Whether he found himself in Georgia or riding out a sleepless, sombre night at home in Nashville with his children upstairs, each and every rainy evening would remind him of his one love, her red hair and angelic voice."-One shot set after 5x09**SPOILERS ahead if you've not seen it**





	

**Author's Note:**

> Was working on my posted multi chapter for the SVU fandom and then heard 'Rainy Night in Georgia' come on my music player. Instantly recalled Nashville 5x09, and this one saw its way out from beneath my fingertips. 
> 
> Obviously, lyric snippets within belong to the songwriters and are from the aforementioned song.
> 
> As stated in summary, spoilers ahead if you've not watched the episode.

Deacon Claybourne looked around the packed room, took in all the people who surrounded him – some he knew well, some not so well – in his presence to extend their condolences and pay respects in equal measure. The girls were off in another corner, trying to keep their spirits up and tears from falling as they engaged politely with the masses. Every so often, he noticed Daphne cling just the slightest bit tighter to her older sister, and new waves of inexplicable grief washed over him. Daphne was not and would never be his child by way of biology or bloodline, but she'd nestled her way into the very corners of his heart and stayed. It pained him, caused new worry lines to etch themselves into the skin of his face to see the younger of the two taking it the hardest.

 

 

“You okay?” Scarlett had sneaked up behind, stealthy and quiet, sound of dainty footsteps lost on his otherwise preoccupied mind.

 

 

“Not really, no,” he said gruffly, his voice still hoarse as the day he'd lost the only woman who'd ever meant anything to him. “Tryin' to hold it together for all these people.” A weathered hand, fingertips calloused from years of expert guitar playing, emerged from pants' pocket and was swept gently across the room.

 

 

“I'm sure they'd understand if you couldn't,” Scarlett told him gently, bright eyes softening as they bore into his. “You just had to bury your wife.”

 

 

“Still doesn't feel real,” he murmured, eyes glossing over. “After I beat cancer, I thought it'd be a long time before I'd see this day come for her.”

 

 

“I know, it's not fair. You should've had a lot more time with her.”

 

 

“Yeah, well, time stops for nothin' I guess. Not even love like ours.”

 

 

Watching her uncle as he fell to pieces before her, the blonde's heart was shattered all over again, embracing him tightly to her as wet droplets coated her shoulder the only thing she could think to do. In the weeks leading up to the services, he'd attempted to remain strong, level headed, composed, for his girls. As he unravelled, she was aware that the Deacon she'd always known had died along with Rayna.

 

 

“Mr. Claybourne.” The familiar voice hitting his ears caused him to slowly pull back from Scarlett's loving embrace and wipe at his dripping eyes with the back of a hand. “I'm so sorry for the loss of your wife. I know we maybe got off on the wrong foot a little bit, but I love Maddie and you're her family, so I had to come pay my respects to you all.”

 

 

“Well thank you, Clay, that's real nice. I appreciate it.” Deacon reached out a hand and light skin entangled with dark as the two met in a handshake – an apparent gesture of conciliatory nature, a show of no hard feelings.

 

 

“Dad, is it okay if I leave with Clay for a little while after we finish here?” Maddie questioned from her position next to her boyfriend, hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Just really need to clear my head.”

 

 

If he were honest with himself Deacon didn't really want her to go, but she'd been home much of the last weeks, neither he nor anyone else in the family or circle of friends able to coax her from her room. He knew he couldn't keep her home close to him solely as an effort to lessen his own pain. Even music didn't seem to hold the same magic for her as it once had and though he understood why, he hoped more than anything that the passage of time would see her feeling differently toward it again. Both she and Daphne had a gift bestowed upon them by some force much greater than themselves, and he'd hate to see either of them lose the will to use or share it.

 

 

“Sure, honey,” he said as he shook his head lightly, pulling himself from the thoughts he'd slipped into, number of seconds which had passed undetermined. “Stay around until this wraps up, though.”

 

 

“Of course.”

 

 

“And don't be out too late. I mean it.”

 

 

“I'll have her home by ten,” Clay promised him from where he still stood next to his daughter.

 

 

“That's fine.” Noticing he was being summoned by others at the opposite side of the room, Deacon gave a light nod of concession, flashed a weak smile at each of them in turn and excused himself.

 

 

///

 

“I find it so calming to walk aimlessly at night.” As she matched him stride for stride, young hand clutched in his older one, Maddie felt the build up of tension that had manifested itself throughout almost every inch of her body slowly and steadily dissipate, found herself as much at peace as was allowable given the situation.

 

 

“'Cause you like night time, or 'cause you're walking aimlessly?” Clay asked her playfully, faint notes of the laugh she'd come to love escaping his depths as he stuck tongue through teeth and she swatted him playfully on the arm.

 

 

“Both, stupid,” she chuckled, casting a sideways glance at him. “Maybe I enjoy it more now that I'm doing it with you.”

 

 

Both decided to stop where they were, steps halting at exactly the same moment. Hands still fused together, they lowered themselves slowly down onto the smooth pavement below. Lights twinkled far and beyond, blanketing their view of the city. Though she was native to Nashville, Maddie still took in its nights with wonder. Often, she found herself speechless at the continued discoveries of all that existed in the corner of the world where she'd always been.

 

 

“It's so pretty out here,” she mused, so faintly that Clay almost didn't pick up the utterance. The night air was cool enough to send shivers up the spine should it cut through a jacket, but the days had seen temperatures unusually warm even for their southern parts. Changing of the seasons was definitely occurring.

 

 

“It's a pretty nice view directly across from me, too,” Clay told her easily. A smile was flashed in her direction, exposed pearly whites shining in great contrast to both the pigment of his skin and the dark of night that surrounded.

 

 

“Mush bucket,” she chuckled. “My view isn't so bad either though, I must say.”

 

 

They sat in the silence that enveloped them for a while. It was comfortable, companionable, without hints of strain or awkwardness and entirely necessary. Maddie was painfully aware of the facts, more than she wished she were: her mother was dead, never to return to her, offer another hug or snippet of the advice she'd so often loathed, and her healing was a long way off. Even if at first Clay had insisted he wasn't good for her, used his mental illness as both excuse and shield, he had come to be one of the forces on which she most depended.

 

 

Not having a mother was something he'd never wish on anyone, but now something that had been realised for both of them. A piece of common ground that saw them closer together. Slow was he to admit it, but Maddie had been good for him, too. One of the best things he knew he'd ever have. Tooth and nail she fought his stubbornness when it came to the height of the walls guarding his heart and the depth of his desire to hide his illness.

 

 

It was said that love was a learning process. Slow, tedious, and more times than it wasn't, entirely unpleasant. Real love, Maddie knew, was what she'd witnessed between her parents when they'd found their way home to each other. It was feeling the height of the goodness, learning the depth of the darkness and embracing it with an open mind and heart. As much as she'd come to regret every horrible thing she'd done and put her mother – both parents – through, extending that kind of love to other people – Clay in particular – was her way of trying to do better going forward.

 

 

“You know, I heard what you told my Dad earlier, after the service,” she spoke up slowly, as if not wanting to break the quietude hung between them at all. “That you love me.”

 

 

“Yeah? Well, good. I wanted you to hear it.” Unwinding their fingers, he embraced her easily, encircling her midriff as she sidled into his lap.

 

 

“You meant it, then?” She was sure he did. With how hard he'd fought against the idea and possibility of loving each other, how long he'd let pass before this moment was in front of them, she couldn't imagine he'd allow it to slip from his lips if he didn't. Even so, she needed the reassurance.

 

 

“Of course I did,” he responded, chastising her for even a fleeting second of thought to the contrary. “I couldn't let myself say it if I didn't. Not to you, and definitely not to your Dad.”

 

 

“Well, I love you, too.” A shifting of weight occurred in his lap, and he felt the sudden brush of soft, feminine lips against his own masculine ones. The action was without rush or urgency, but the heat that encompassed it caused nerve endings within both of them to tingle, breath to catch in each of their throats.

 

 

“I know you do,” Clay assured as he pulled away in effort to avoid full surrender to the drunken, light headed feeling beginning to blanket him.

 

 

“I need you, too,” she told him. The tremor in her voice was not lost on him.

 

 

“Maddie,” he said, brushing the side of her face with the knuckles of one hand. “Needing people is dangerous, everyone is temporary.”

 

 

“I know, but it's a danger that feels right. We all think we have forever. I've learned recently more than ever that we don't. I want to spend my temporary time with you.

 

 

“Loving you, needing you, being with you, it feels good. It feels right. The best years of my Mum's life started when she let herself give in to those feelings a second time. Love is not easy, but it's worth it.”

 

 

“Sometimes the depth of your wisdom freaks me out, you know that?” Clay's eyes were wide as he looked on, in awe of her. “I forget how young you really are.”

 

 

“Songwriters usually come with complicated minds,” she laughed, genuinely, he noted, for the first time in a while. “You should know that.”

 

 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he said as he tapped the tip of a forefinger to his temple. “Got a complicated enough mind of my own. I've just never come across anybody with one quite like yours.”

 

 

“I'll take that as a compliment,” she winked.

 

 

“As well you should.”

 

 

///

“It's raining.” Another long stretch of silence had passed, Maddie had reclaimed the spot next to her lover, her eyes cast toward the sky, palms outstretched to touch the droplets she saw falling as they began to pelt lightly down on them. “Mum always loved the rain.”

 

 

“Really?” Clay was quiet, pensive. Not much wanting to move, possibly out of fear of disturbing the intimacy of the moment, he leaned back nearly imperceptibly, his weight supported by his hands which lay face down against the asphalt behind him. “I always have, too. It's soothing.”

 

 

“Right? The sound of it against a tin roof was always Mum's favourite. She loved falling asleep to that. Told me a story once about how Dad hadn't come home one night and she couldn't sleep for worrying about him and where he was at.

 

 

“It started raining, and she went outside under the roof of the porch. Sat on the swing listening to the rain fall. Fell asleep sitting up. Aunt Tandy found her the next morning.”

 

 

“I can imagine Rayna Jaymes sleeping while situated upright on a porch swing would be quite the sight in the early morning, especially surrounded by puddles of rainfall.”

 

 

Maddie's eyes twinkled, the slow laugh that escaped her eventually turning bawdy and all encompassing. Clay's insides warmed at the sound, and he hoped that she'd never forget how vital laughter was to a full and continuing existence in the land of the living without someone you loved.

 

 

“I wasn't even alive yet, but Tandy could vouch that it was, I'd imagine.”

 

 

“It makes me feel good that you're sharing these things with me,” he told her. “These happy, fun memories of your mother. It's important to remember them.”

 

 

“I hope I always do,” she said emphatically. “I worry sometimes that I'm going to forget. Not everything, just little things, you know? The way her laugh sounded, how she smelled, how she always called me and Daph _sweet girl_ , even when we weren't sweet at all.”

 

 

“Write it down,” Clay told her seriously. “All of it. Journal it, put it into a song, keep it tucked away. Whether you believe in God or not, you were given the gifts you were for a reason. People like us are graced with the privilege of immortalising our pain, turning it to art, using it for good.”

 

 

“I haven't even been able to think about music lately,” she said regrettably. “I know Mum and Dad both wouldn't want me to feel that way in the wake of all this, but it just chokes me up every time I pull my guitar out.”

 

 

“Give it some time,” he said gently. “I know _time heals all wounds_ can sound like bullshit, and honestly, sometimes it is. But you don't have to jump back into music right away. Pen the lyrics, get it out, and the music will follow later. It always finds its way out.”

 

 

Smiling lovingly at him, she shifted to extract the mobile from her pocket, checked the time flashing across the lock screen. “It's almost ten,” she told him, standing. “We should head back.”

 

 

///

 

“You sure you're okay here, man?” Gunnar had accompanied Deacon back to the house he and his late wife had shared after the services had wrapped. No longer attached to anyone romantically, he had no desire to return to his own.

 

 

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” Deacon told him. “Clay should be bringin' Maddie home soon, and Daphne's sleepin' upstairs.”

 

 

Gunnar nodded approval, though he didn't entirely like the idea of leaving or believe his friend's declaration of fine. “Are you sure? 'Cause I can stay as long as you need.”

 

 

“Nah, it's getting late, go on home and get some sleep.” The older man's eyes were sympathetic, knowing of the situation between Gunnar and his niece. He was fully aware he was sending him home to what would feel like an entirely-too-empty house where sleep probably wouldn't come swiftly at all.

 

 

“All right then,” the younger of the two conceded. “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

 

 

“I sure will. Thanks for everything, Gunnar.”

 

 

“You bet.”

 

 

His retreating form walked out the door, just barely colliding with Maddie as she came in a mere five minutes later.

 

 

“You're soaked,” Deacon said as he took in the head to toe sight of her, heard the droplets of precipitation as they rolled off her body and onto the floor.

 

 

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Raining pretty hard out there, now. Didn't think to bring an umbrella.”

 

 

Her father made his way to the living room's large window, peered out into the blackness as if to test the weight of his daughter's statement. Indeed, the rain was coming down heavier than it had in a while, and it matched his sombre mood. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for fleeting seconds as recollections of Rayna and her infatuation with rainfall assaulted him.

 

 

“It _would_ be rainin' the night of your Mama's funeral,” he said without looking toward his daughter, as if the words were spoken merely to fill the emptiness he felt inside. “She loved the rain.”

 

 

“I know,” Maddie said softly in response. “Clay and I talked about that tonight.”

 

 

“He's a nice boy, Clay.”

 

 

“You think so?” It was evident her father had caught her off guard with the statement.

 

 

“I do,” he said. “I know your Mama and I had our issues with him in the beginning. I know he's older, too. That's something I'm still struggling with, and I don't entirely like it, but I've seen a shift in you since your mother died. Would change anyone, I guess. I'm gonna have to learn to trust you, and you gotta know you can talk to me, baby, about anything.”

 

 

“I know, Dad. I do. I'm really glad you're starting to see him for who he really is, because that's who I see all the time.”

 

 

Deacon smiled. “I saw that he was there when you needed people most,” he said. “I heard him say that he loves you. He has his problems, I'm sure, as you've said, but those are the kinds of things any father wants for his child.”

 

 

“I love you so much, Daddy.”

 

 

“I know baby, I love you, too.” Moving forward to pull her into a hug, the dampness of her sopping clothes sent shivers throughout his body as their torsos connected. “This doesn't mean I'm fully on board with everything or I give you free reign to do whatever you want. You've gotta prove to me that I can trust you, keep doing better like you have been.”

 

 

“I know Dad, I will.” The realisation that it was now and forever just the three of them against the world was something that continued to hit her, irrevocably changing parts she'd believed would always remain the same.

 

 

“You did good tonight, comin' home on time,” her father winked. “That's a start.”

 

 

Maddie smiled and stepped back from his embrace. “I don't know if I'll sleep tonight, but I've gotta at least get out of these clothes.” Giving herself a once over, she headed for the stairs.

 

 

 

As he watched her ascend them, Deacon felt gratitude wash over him. A feeling he thought he'd never be able to feel again for it always being clouded by grief, he was grateful not for the loss of his wife but for the beautiful being they'd managed to create together. The changes for the better he was witnessing manifest themselves from her inside out.

 

///

 

The girls had long since fallen asleep, hour which it was unknown to him but probably ungodly. The marital bed they'd shared felt too empty without her in it, left a gaping hole in his still broken, aching heart. Knowing he wouldn't sleep, he'd risen up off the mattress, dug out his guitar on instinct. The minimal effort with which he was able to play surprised him. Deft, calloused, weathered hands moved expertly along familiar strings. Sounds emitted from the instrument were beautiful as they always were.

 

 

As the faint glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his silhouette against the backdrop of dark that plagued the rest of the room, he recalled the pelting of raindrops against earlier darkness outside the windowpane. Rayna's vibrant smile, green orbs and fiery red hair came into his mind's eye and the picture situated itself.

 

 

Chris Young had once played his version of Brook Benton's hit _Rainy Night in Georgia_ at the Bluebird when she happened to be there. Eyes flitting across the crowd in search of a singing companion, he'd almost instantly fallen on Rayna. It had been unsurprising to Deacon, when she'd recounted the story of that night to him. Everybody in Nashville and many far beyond knew who she was. She commanded any space she was in, no matter who else was there or the magnitude of their talents.

 

 

Chris' voice held anybody's attention, carried them to places they didn't know existed, and so the crowd was easily in the palm of Rayna's hand as she made her way up to the stage and started to tell them about her love of rain. (Which had also coincidentally been coming down in sheets that night) Pluck of guitar strings provided just the right kind of backdrop to her story, and as she finished speaking into the microphone, he'd launched into _Rainy Night_ , Rayna picking up where he was going without having to be told.

 

 

The memory saw Deacon smiling more than he had in weeks, so much so that his face hurt and his eyes watered. Sleep may evade him for many nights to come, but the memory of Rayna never would. Tonight, he knew anything he played would have to be for her. The song she'd sung so effortlessly alongside one of the most talented up and comings in the city all those moons ago fell easily from his lips as his own fingers moved.

 

 

_“...How many times I've wondered, and it still comes out the same. No matter how you look at it or think of it, it's life, and you just gotta play the game.._

 

_...Rainy night in Georgia, I believe it's rainin' all over the world...”_

 

 

Fingers eventually slowed and music ceased. Tears blurred his vision, their stains coating the instrument as he clung to it for dear life. The words struck a chord in him like they'd never done and he was aware not for the first time how the right music, the right song, could either cause you to remember everything or forget it. It was unclear to him how he could go on playing the game of life without Rayna by his side, but he had the girls and he had to stay afloat for them. Nashville was still in mourning, too, he knew. It brought him an inexplicable sort of comfort to know he and his family were not wholly alone in their pain.

 

 

If he listened very closely, he could still hear the pelting of rainfall outside the walls he was boxed within, albeit not as heavily as hours before. The rainy night that surrounded him was polar opposite to the one within the recollection that had caused the movement of his fingers, his own gift springing forth anew. In one, his wife was in his life, the other saw her only in his heart.

 

 

Whether he found himself in Georgia or riding out a sleepless, sombre night at home in Nashville with his children upstairs, each and every rainy evening would remind him of his one love, her red hair and angelic voice.

 

The day Rayna Jaymes left, it had rained in the hearts of many all over the world.

 


End file.
